


Consummation

by LizBee



Category: Mary Russell - King
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-06
Updated: 2006-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizBee/pseuds/LizBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donleavy taught Russell to be right the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consummation

The red ink smears as Russell circles a phrase. She writes a comment, sharp, in the margin. When she lifts her hand, it is stained red. The colour is nothing like blood.

She crosses out a split infinitive and deconstructs a sloppy argument. She writes, This is unacceptable. The student in her second year. She will have to resubmit. It is simply not good enough.

Patricia Donleavy taught Russell to be right the first time. Her most valuable lesson. Russell silently thanks her for it as she scrawls her final remarks and throws the essay aside.

The morning's mail is in the basket at her feet, in shreds. The Hon. Sarah Clay-Harding had protective parents. They don't like to see her expensive education go to waste, or her gentle heart suffer at the hands of a harsh tutor. The girl has a brain, Russell has no doubt of it, but she also has a taste for cocktails and the attention of Balliol men, and Greek verbs pale by comparison.

Russell is having recurring dreams. She stands on a London dock, and Holmes is alive and laughing and kissing her. And they are happy, and they are going to be married.

All of this happened, but her dreams are always wrong. The sun is too bright, Holmes's smile is too broad, his kiss too knowing.

She wakes up alone every morning. She is afraid the false dream-Holmes will steal her true memories, leaving her with a shell, a puppet who spouts cliches and leaves her with nothing of substance.

Sometimes she dreams she is pregnant with his child. Endless hollow babies with smiles that mean nothing. They consume her.

It is a relief to wake up and know she is safe, alone, herself.

Russell corrects the grammar in the Hon. Sarah's translation, and regrets (with a flicker of amusement) that she learnt Patricia's lesson when the bullet pierced her shoulder, and Oxford frowns on that sort of thing these days.

_end_


End file.
